Learning to Fly
by truelove08
Summary: Set immediately after the end of RE5, Jill Valentine remembers another time in another helicopter. Brad/Jill.


"I'm in a chopper headed to your position now! You two will have to work together to defeat as many enemies as possible."

Jill put down the transceiver, sweeping the back of her hand against her forehead. Just why Chris and Sheva had insisted on returning to Kijuju just to personally take down as many mutants as possible was beyond her comprehension. She and Josh had insisted that, following Wesker's demise, the surviving party returned to the nearest BSAA office as soon as possible, but Chris had just shared a look with Sheva, and had claimed that it was crucial that the remaining BOWs were taken down before the situation worsened.

"There's some places that an airstrike wouldn't be able to reach," he stated simply, loading his side pouch with a first aid spray. "Sheva-"

"Affirmative," she had replied, checking her sniper rifle for ammo. "We need to make sure we know what we have to deal with before we get more back-up. We can't afford to spare any more casualties."

And then they had literally leaped from the flying helicopter without a backwards glance, leaving Jill and Josh in disbelief.

And now they were reluctantly flying around the ruined African settlement hoping desperately that the people that were most important to them were not in the process of having their guts ripped out by some unimaginable mutated beast.

Josh sighed audibly. Jill's heart reached out to him. There was no guarantee that his state of mind would survive this hellish ordeal. She pleased silently for Sheva to be careful. They did NOT need another Doug incident.

"Redfield always been this idiotic?" he said finally, keeping his completely fixated on the route ahead of him.

Jill rolled her eyes, and nudging the smoking rocket launcher with the tip of her toe. "As long as I've known him. He's always been a little gung-ho...more so since Wesker and the Raccoon City disaster. But he has a good head on his shoulders. He knows what to do in times of crisis, and he's the only guy I can trust."

Josh snorted.

"Apart from you, of course, Captain," Jill put in quickly. "If you hadn't found me, I-"

Josh swivelled around and held up a hand to interrupt her line of thought, "Never mind, it's all water under the bridge, understood? Besides, it's not everyday you get to meet on such a personal level with a dead celebrity."

"Keep your eye on the road," Jill ordered. "You're a terrible pilot."

Josh muttered something she couldn't quite catch, and resumed to flying in silence. Wistfully, Jill watched him steering, and her mind, despite full of fog and shadows, was filled with one memory. A memory of another survivor who had just happened to fly a helicopter.

Her heart felt a soaring pain as a name and a face rose buoyantly to the forefront of her mind.

Brad Vickers.

Brad had suffered a rough deal at the S.T.A.R.S. division. Always one to think a little too much before acting on impulse, his reluctance to dive straight in to unknown peril had rewarded him with the unflattering nickname "Chickenheart" amongst his colleagues. But she had always thought Chickenheart as a silly misnomer...

A dull and dreary evening over a decade ago, Jill Valentine sat alone in the S.T.A.R.S. office, preparing paperwork for recovered missing persons. She had not been at her position long, and she had been so eager to impress Wesker with her professionalism that she had spent extra hours to ensure that she achieved perfection. It was then that Brad had wandered in, looking half lost like he always did, lurking moodily around the communications systems until she had finally forced herself to look up from her work and address his presence before he gave her a nervous complex.

"Brad, what the HELL are you doing?"

Brad lifted his hands from the keyboards as if electrocuted, and stared wide eyed at her, as if only realising she was there. "Ahhh-Ji-Valen-I mean-um, I'm sorry to disturb you, I'm heading off now...jus-just wanted...um-I-"

"Vickers, shut the hell up," Jill snapped, feeling her irritation increasing the more Brad flustered. "Just get whatever you came in here for and leave me in peace. I have a deadline for this report, you know."

"Sorry," Brad mumbled, heading towards his locker morosely. Jill rolled her eyes and returned to the stack of documents in front of her.

"Do people really call me Chicken?" he blurted out from behind his locker door.

_Crap. _

Jill sighed in exasperation, and closed her eyes. She counted to six, and run a hand through her hair. It needed cutting.

Brad continued to stare at her., but this time with a determined glint in his eye.

"Well Brad," she said carefully, "nobody really means anything by it. It's more of an affectionate term."

Brad was silent.

""I mean, everyone has a nickname on the force," she continued, searching for a box of paperclips in the middle drawer, "it's just a bunch of guys, playing around. Nothing personal."

"I'm not a chicken!" he announced loudly, slamming his locker door so that the sound reverberated throughout the room.

"Well, maybe you just need to stop acting like one," Jill blurted, her sympathy waning.

He stood there, looking like a wounded puppy, and Jill instantly regretted her words.

"Look Brad, sorry, I just have a lot on my plate right now, I-"

"Fly with me," he interrupted suddenly, and as soon as the words had escaped his lips, he seemed to undergo a transformation in his confidence.

Jill felt sick. "What?"

"Come fly with me," he said boldly, leaving the safe haven of his locker to join her at her desk. "Right now. In my helicopter. I'll prove to you I'm not chicken."

"Brad, what's come over you? You know flying without permission is against S.T.A.R.S. protocol!"

Brad bit his bottom lip, weighing her words carefully. But then his entire posture relaxed, and Jill saw an oddly familiar fieriness in his blue eyes.

"Screw rules and regulations and protocols!" he declared, extending a hand dramatically, "Brad Vicker's here ain't afraid of nothing! C'mon Jill, where's you sense of adventure? You with me?"

Jill's heart seemed to beat three times faster than normal at the thought of being lost in the deep recesses of the night sky. She had a sudden urge to run from the room and vomit in the nearest plant pot. She closed her eyes and tried to count away the nausea.

"Jill? Jill, are you okay Jill?"

"I-I'm not flying with you Brad."

"Aw c'mon, I'm sure we could make up some story if we're caught. You're doing a missing persons report right? Say we had a lead, we needed to check it out! It's a beautiful night...."

"BRAD."

Brad took a step back, visibly disappointed. Her heart lurched as his confidence deflated in front of her.

"Sorry I just thought it would be fun. I know you like those adventurous type of guys. I guess I was an idiot for ever thinking I could be as exciting as Speyer, Redfield or even Sullivan..." His eyes watered slightly, and he looked away in shame. "I should have realised that you would never see me than anything other than a wimpy chicken."

Her nausea quickly reverted back to anger, and she took her companion by the shoulders forcefully. "Say that and you're more stupider than I thought!" she said harshly. " I have NEVER thought of you as weak. I admire you for being a pilot. God knows it's something I could never do."

Brad sucked in air through his teeth. "Oh yeah? The multi-talented Jill Valentine is unable to fly a helicopter? Please, you don't have to make excuses for me. It's best if I leave."

"No!" she insisted, pulling him back so that he could look her directly in the eyes. And as their gazes connected, she suddenly felt a strange sense of security, as if she could trust this man with the deepest secrets of her soul.

"Jill?" he said, his voice a little husky.

"I-I-listen. The real reason I can't go flying with you tonight isn't because I'm afraid we'll get caught," she explained in calm, even tones. "I can't fly with you tonight...because...well...I'm aerophobic."

He lifted a single eyebrow as he processed this information. "That's fear of flying, right?"

She inhaled deeply. "Fear of helicopters, specifically."

"Wait. But that's impossible. You're flown in a helicopter plenty of times on missions for Wesker! You can't be aerophobic."

"I've managed to avoid flying out missions so far," she explained, feeling a sense of relief in confiding one her darkest secrets, "so I haven't had to tell anyone. I guess I'm afraid that if word gets out that I can't fly, I'll be transferred to the RPD. I couldn't bear that, not after all the work I've put in to be selected for S.T.A.R.S. I suppose..." she smiled wistfully, "the real Chickenheart in this department is me, not you."

Brad laughed, and Jill grimaced. Had she really made a mistake over pouring her heart out, and trusting him without second thought?

"There's only one solution I can think of," he exclaimed, taking her hand earnestly. "Let me fly you away, tonight! In my helicopter!"

"Brad," she cried out, "did you just ignore everything I just said? I told you, I can't!"

"I'll show you!" He insisted. "Come with me and I'll show you that there's nothing to fear! You're missing so much!. I can cure your fear. Just think of it as a...a...professional investment!"

Jill paused. On one hand the mere thought of flying filled her with an irrefutable sense of dread. And yet, Brad had a valid . Each day she worried over her eventual demotion. She was going to have to overcome her fear eventually if she wanted to stay a S.T.A.R.S. member.

"Let me think about it," she said finally.

Now it was Brad's turn to feign exasperation, and he shook his head stubbornly. "Tonight." he demanded. "Or I quit the team. I believed in you, Valentine. If you're not brave enough to face your fears, then how do you expect me to do the same?"

For a long moment, they stood in stony silence, daring one another to give in. As another minute hand passed, Jill could finally take no more. "Fine!" she snapped, picking up her jacket. "God. I didn't realise you were so sadistic, you manipulative little man."

Brad barely seemed to be listening as he whistled a familiar tune in a high pitched shriek.

"You're whistling Beethoven?" she asked in disbelief, as they headed towards the helipad.

"He's my favourite musician," he admitted, opening the fire exit and ushering her through.

"The Moonlight Sonata...."

"I know. It's not exactly rock'n'roll," he said, his cheeks reddening.

"No...she said, "no actually...that's one of my favourite compositions of all time. I never had you pegged as a classical fan."

"It's not something I want to shout from the rooftops," he admitted, shutting the door behind them. "The guys would nail me."

She hadn't realised that she had been smiling until she came face to face with Brad's favourite helicopter, and her stomach dropped to her knees. She took in the rotor system, the shiny metal body, the tail fins, and the landing skids, and broke into a cold sweat.

She shook her head, and turned to leave. "Forget it. I can't do this."

Brad grabbed her gently by the arm. "There's nothing to fear. You're with a world class S.T.A.R.S. pilot here. " He puffed his chest out in exaggerated pride.

Jill had to admit that it intrigued her to see the normally reserved Brad Vickers so animated over an ugly vehicle. Could flying really inspire such excitement?

The door of the helicopter slid open, and she shakily stepped inside with a little guidance. It just seemed so small, so stuffy, so suffocating, and her initial instinct was to leap from the helicopter in to the open air and in to freedom. But one look at Brad's open, daring eyes persuaded her otherwise. Jill took a deep breath, and sighed.

"Take me to the sky, Chickenheart."

Brad smiled coyly, and simply extended his hand. "Your wish is my command, Ms Valentine."

That was the last time that Jill Valentine had ever harboured any fear of flying.

"Ms Valentine?"

Jill blinked, surprised to find hot tears rolling down her cheeks. Was the pain ever going to go away?

Josh cleared his throat loudly, evidently attempting to hide his discomfort. "It's alright Miss Valentine. I've received contact from Sheva and Chris. Throw down the ladder. It's finally over.

"Roger," she replied, grabbing hold of the rope ladder at her feet.

"Listen, Jill-"

"Josh-" she interrupted, her grip tightening a ladder rung. "When all of this is over...I'm going to teach you how to fly a helicopter. Properly."

Josh rotated quickly in his seat to look her in the eye. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but then seemed to stop himself in time. Instead, he smiled.

"I'd love to," he said simply.

And somehow, Jill knew that she had made Brad proud.


End file.
